


The Price of Freedom

by cyanideinsomnia



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Bad Decisions, Bad Ending, Blood and Injury, Bottom Lucio (The Arcana), Cock Warming, Crying During Sex, Death Threats, Extremely Dubious Consent, Frottage, Lucio (The Arcana) Route, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Partial Mind Control, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spoilers, Threats of Violence, bottoming for satan, tfw you've grown a conscience and satan uses it against you, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25325917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanideinsomnia/pseuds/cyanideinsomnia
Summary: “Ah, if it isn’t the great Count Lucio, in the flesh.”A horrifying realization swept over him, keeping him frozen at the threshold.“You-- you wanted me to break free. You wanted me to get my body back.”
Relationships: The Devil/Lucio (The Arcana)
Kudos: 50





	The Price of Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Lucio's book 16 spoilers because i would be a terrible goat tormentor if i didn't do /something/ in that gap between you being trapped and you finding him again
> 
> this assumes you picked "free Lucio"; i don't know if anything is different if you pick "free me" and i'm too much of a coward to try

Cold, all-too-familiar crimson eyes watched him as he stepped into the ritual room, a jagged grin on the elegant snout below them.

“Ah, if it isn’t the great Count Lucio, in the _flesh._ ”

A horrifying realization swept over him, keeping him frozen at the threshold. 

“You-- you _wanted_ me to break free. You wanted me to get my body back.” His right hand unconsciously came up to grip his chest, as if shielding his living heart from the creature before him, the left gesturing at the room. “So you could use me for-- all of this.”

The Devil only continued to grin, and he felt that odd _compulsion_ gripping his body again, forcibly dragging him towards the head of the table to join him, abruptly pulled into his lap the moment he came within arm’s reach. He couldn’t move, despite everything in him crying out to fight or escape, trapped against warmth and fur.

Onyx fingers curled around the arm still hovering near his chest, idly pulling it closer to examine it. “Don’t be presumptuous. I could have chosen anyone for the final touch.”

He slowly pulled the glove off that hand, almost sensually, before running a rough finger along the palm, sharp claws too close to unprotected skin. He could feel his pulse pounding in his grip, blood rushing through his veins.

“I just wanted to remind you that even if your contracts are broken, I _own_ you.”

For the moment the Devil seemed content to simply handle that arm, rolling back the sleeve on his Masquerade jacket to reveal more vulnerable flesh, his grip light and almost gentle, softness encasing steel. Lucio tensed, waiting for the pain of those claws to sink in - there, or his neck, where the other hand was slowly, casually caressing him, tilting his head back.

“All I need is a few drops, you know.” He murmured against his ear, voice dropping into a purr, the click of teeth too close to the skin. “But I wonder, perhaps, given your tendency to run away from me.. it may suit my purposes better if I were to drain you _dry_.”

“Please don’t.” The former Count whimpered, shuddering against him, unable to move away. “I don’t want to die again.”

His captor chuckled. “I believe at this point we’ve moved past what _you_ want.”

“Just let me go and I’ll-- I can-- I’ll do anything--”

“ _Anything_?”

He realized in an instant he shouldn’t have said that. Not here, not him, not now. That was how he got into this mess in the first place. 

The hands against his skin paused, a subtle uptick in hot breath against his neck, the monster presumably internally gazing over a myriad of worse and worser choices for him to fulfill that request. He opened his mouth in order to either take it back or make some kind of clarification, ‘anything within reason’.

What came out instead was a sharp cry as he was suddenly slammed face first onto the table before him, one broad hand pinning him down by the back of his neck, the other gripping his hips and just as violently tugging his pants down to his knees, baring his ass for all and sundry, another whimper escaping him at the sudden exposure of sensitive skin to cool air.

It was a fine ass, but out of everything he could have done to him, he wasn’t prepared for that. The only comfort was that there was no one else in the room but the Devil, yet. 

His fingers curled into the tablecloth, feeling his thighs automatically slide further apart as the hand moved to brush against exposed flesh, sudden oppressive weight bearing down on him as the beast leaned forward, hot breath once again at his ear.

“Lie still and let me take what I want from you, and I will consider letting you go free.”

He hated how he arched into his touch, how his cock was already hard. Skin left unclaimed for over three years, yearning for it. In all the chaos, the magician hadn’t had the time to-- 

Fuck. The magician.

“Wh-- What about--”

“Your magician friend is in good hands, don’t worry.” The Devil purred, as if he’d heard that thought. “My associate tends to keep things clean, after all.”

He remembered the dungeons. He wouldn’t call that _clean._

Before he could press him any further on that matter, something hard and hot slid between his thighs, pressing up against his cock and creeping along his abdomen, rolling his Masquerade costume further forward until more of his skin was exposed. He knew if he looked down, he would see a thick black cock pushing his legs apart, rubbing up against his stomach.

"Do we have an agreement~?" The bastard was saying, shifting his hips against him, getting comfortable. 

As though compelled again, Lucio slowly nodded - and then swiftly shook his head, desperately hoping they would cancel each other out. That it didn’t count as an actual deal.

He tightened his grip on the tablecloth and whimpered as the cock began to slowly move, pushing forward until he felt fur against his ass, and then drawing back until only the tip rested against his own cock, sliding back and forth between his legs in a slow, teasing rhythm, essentially fucking his thighs. 

He hated how his own hips began to roll, riding him, letting more of that sensation catch against his cock. He hated how it felt so good, how it made his legs shake and his pulse pound that much harder, his skin hyper aware of every shift and twitch. He hated how he wanted this. The hand that had been stroking him curled around both of their cocks, pressing them more closely together as he continued to fuck his thighs.

“I hate you,” Lucio breathed, and gasped as the Devil’s grip tightened between his legs. 

“Oh, I suppose you wanted your _magician_ to have your first time back on this plane of existence, didn’t you?” That deep voice chuckled against his neck, annoyingly smug. “Freedom always has a price.”

He clamped his thighs down on the large cock thrusting between them, a half-hearted attempt at a punishment that only ended up punishing himself instead, now so much more keenly able to feel every vein and ridge against his flesh. He couldn’t let it go, even as the pace began to pick up, pushing him down harder into the table with every thrust, no longer moving his own hips but letting them be moved, panting hard as he held on for dear life.

The hand gripping both cocks squeezed again, and the heat of climax seared through him before he was prepared for it, violently juddering against the larger cock, smearing his cum across the shaft and the hand guiding it, nearly collapsing on the table as the cock slid out from between his trembling legs.

For a brief moment, hope flickered through him, wondering if this meant he was allowed to leave. Maybe _that_ would count instead of the blood. It wasn’t his ritual anymore, there was no telling.

The hand against his neck hadn't moved. If anything, it was pressing down that much harder, making sure he couldn't escape. He felt cum-slicked fingers slowly caress his ass, smearing it across the skin there, before they slipped inside him, stroking and stretching, his thighs beginning to slide further apart beneath him, straining against the fabric of his pants, hips threatening to drop to the table, held up only by that hand.

In the haze of afterglow, the feeling was mesmerizing, almost heavenly. That was territory also left unclaimed for over three years, maybe longer, for all intents and purposes practically virginal. The fingers abruptly curled inside him, tugging his hips back up, and a needy little whimper escaped him before he could stop it.

Oh, but he knew where this was going. He didn't want it. He wanted it more than anything.

"D-don't.." He gasped into the tablecloth, fighting against his treacherous, pleasure-riddled body to try to pull away from his hand, the other hand easily keeping him in place. "Stop.."

"Don't stop?" The Devil's voice chuckled, knowing damn well that's not what he was trying to say. "I had no intention to."

The pressure bearing down on his neck lifted for a moment, fingers pausing in their ministrations as additional heat and liquid poured over his naked ass, what he could only hope was something mundane like oils. He shuddered as the fingers resumed their wicked work, massaging the extra liquid inside him as well, getting him good and wet, almost too wet, knowing for a fact he was going to need it.

He didn’t understand it. He could have easily just taken him, now or when he first pinned him down. Why was he going through the trouble of making sure he would _enjoy_ it?

The fingers slid free, and suddenly he was flipped onto his back on the table, the Devil yanking his pants off the rest of the way before gripping both legs and pulling him back toward him, the thick black cock resting between splayed thighs, a point of unbearable, inescapable, delicious heat against too sensitive skin.

"Wh-why-- why are you doing this?" Lucio panted, unable to look away from the cock. His own was rising again in anticipation of the feeling of it inside him.

"I already told you. I _own_ you. Your pain and your pleasure belongs to me. Even while your magician has you, when they touch you, you'll remember who was there _first_."

As he spoke, he angled his hips so that he could push the cock inside him without releasing his legs, deeper and deeper in until fur was against his ass and he could see the outline of it pushing up against his own skin, distending his stomach, filling him completely. He quickly tugged his Masquerade jacket and the shirt beneath it open to keep it from popping the buttons, at the cost of baring more skin his captor could tear apart, practically naked beneath him.

It should have hurt, and it did - but at the same time it felt so good, especially as he arched up against it, shifting the pressure inside him. His legs were already shaking, fingers digging into the tablecloth, his head dropping back and eyes falling shut, somewhere between agony and ecstasy.

"When they have you, you'll want me. You'll _crave_ me. You crave me now, don't you?"

"F-fuck.." 

It came out as more a breath than a sound, and he couldn't stop more from coming. 

"Fuck me.. _please_.."

For a long moment he simply kept it inside him, using his trembling body as little more than a cock sleeve, and ecstasy began to outweigh agony as his muscles slowly relaxed around it, steadily driving him insane with its heat and girth, helplessly bucking up against him in the hopes it might get him to _go_.

The grip tightened on his legs, the cock remaining maddeningly still inside him, smoldering away in his guts. “I move on _my_ terms, Lucio.” 

“.. please.. I-- I need it…” 

A sharp keen escaped him when he finally began to move, thrusting deep but slow, pleasure jolting through his body like a strike of lightning, making him jerk up into the cock and the grip hoisting his legs up, tightening his grip on the tablecloth. It was too much, and yet it wasn’t enough. He could feel his weight bearing down on him, pushing him down into the table, the heat of his breath against his vulnerable neck.

“I should kill you and take back what’s mine,” The Devil’s voice purred in his ear, the tone sending a shudder through him. “At the height of pleasure, perhaps. You’ll beg for it like the rest of me.”

“Mmnn..” He weakly shook his head, biting down on his lip. “No…”

“But then.. isn’t it worse this way, alive and free and whimpering beneath me while your magician remains trapped, their fate unknown? What would they think if they saw you here, submitting to me so willingly, so _desperately_? Tsk, how shameful.”

He was right. He shouldn’t be enjoying this. He should have tried harder to escape. He could feel the pinpricks of shameful tears in his eyes.

“Will you be able to look them in the eye, if they survive?”

Distantly he heard the sound of the door to his bedroom above opening and closing, Mercedes’ frenzied barking cut off into deafening silence, footsteps coming down the stone steps leading to this room in its wake.

Oh, gods, Mercedes. They hadn’t _hurt_ her, had they? 

He whimpered and made a pass at pulling his legs free, to find her and make sure, kept all too easily in place by another monstrous thrust.

The door to this room opened, the sound of steps striding across the floor to the table - not all of them, hopefully only the courtiers, hopefully no one else of any importance would see him like this after he’d promised he’d be good. He was crying in earnest now, the thrusts that much harder and faster to punish him for his attempt to escape, forcibly pushing wheezy little moans out of him with each thrust.

"Surely _that_ isn't where the blood is coming from." Vlastomil's voice sniffed.

"Don't interrupt.” The Devil growled. ”I haven't finished."

An awkward cough. “Yes, well, far be it for me to question your _methods_ , my lord, but weren’t _you_ the one that said we were on a strict timetable?”

“Bleed the little slut!” Vulgora’s voice crowed. “Bleed ‘im dry!”

“ _Silence._ ”

He felt the Devil’s weight shift forward again, pulling his hips further up as one hand grabbed for his own, yanking his arms up over his head and pinning them to the table in case he got any ideas about fighting back. The change in angle opened up sensations he hadn’t felt before, his treacherous hips arching up into it once more, as well as they could.

“Very well. Take the chalice and pick a spot. And hurry, before he _contaminates_ it again.”

“How much do you want me to take?” Ice cold, bony fingers were sliding up under his jaw, grip gentle but firm, tilting his head back against the table. He kept his eyes shut, especially as he felt the equally cold blade of a knife against his skin. “We may need to keep some spare in case it fails again.”

“That is no concern of mine. Just do it.” The deep voice sounded strained, as if he was close to finishing as well.

“D-don’t… don’t do it.” Lucio gasped, against his better judgment. “Please.” 

Vlastomil scoffed, almost affronted that he would try to plead with him, pressing something else hard and cold against his neck before there was the sudden pain of the blade biting into his flesh, the warmth of blood spurting out and then trickling down his jaw, feeling his consciousness starting to flow down into the chalice with it.

“If you had simply held up your end of the bargain, you wouldn’t have to worry about any of this.” He snorted, bony fingers pressing painfully into his cheek to force more blood out, squeezing it out of him.

All he could feel was the blood and the cock, his body beginning to feel faint and numb, the echoes of his own desperate cries as distant as Mercedes’ barks. He thought he heard himself say something along the lines of ‘I’m sorry’, though he wasn’t sure to whom, if it would mean anything to anyone in this room but him.

A flood of heat filled him, nearly drew him the rest of the way down into oblivion as searing pleasure tore through him in its wake, barely feeling the heat of his own cum spraying across his stomach and his chest. 

The weight bearing down on him lifted, his body suddenly very cold and empty. He heard a murmur of humanoid voices, and then the Devil’s growl of ‘drink up, my little fool’ as the taste of wine and blood forced its way into his mouth, flooding his throat, too weak to consider fighting against it, just drinking what he was given.

Suddenly he was upright and unstable, a blur of faces and fur, someone handing him something white he realized was his pants, feeling himself clumsily fumble them back onto his trembling legs, using the table as support. He heard echoes of laughter as he began to stumble away from the table, a sharp _smack_ of a broad hand against his aching ass nearly toppling him to the floor.

He hurried out the door and up the stone steps, as far away from that nightmare room as he could, collapsing in the hall outside his bedroom, distantly feeling the warmth of a dog tongue against freshly healed, tear-soaked skin.

The Palace rattled, once, like a thunderclap, and Lucio sobbed another apology into Mercedes’ fur.

**Author's Note:**

> tfw your boss' boner is slightly more important to him than the whole dang ritual you've had set up for years


End file.
